


The Name Of The Game

by TreacleA



Series: "How I Met Your Murder Father" [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Again what do I tag this?, Cracky, Fluffy, I mean I hope it's funny?, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Fall, Will Graham struggles with being straight, a wee bit angsty, but mostly just funny, relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 18:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17310125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TreacleA/pseuds/TreacleA
Summary: "For some reason he cannot for the life of him fathom, Will Graham has recently invented a game it’s obvious that he finds hilarious. A game in which he introduces Hannibal to complete strangers using increasingly bizarre pseudonyms."





	The Name Of The Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is insanity. Honestly. I have no excuses for it, it just happened.

****        “May I introduce my good friend....Colonel Barnaby Colin Wilberforce? The third.”

Despite being at least partially prepared for the introduction, Hannibal only just manages to control the expression on his face as Will turns away from the couple he’s talking to, and lays a hand on his shoulder. 

For some reason he cannot for the life of him fathom, Will Graham has recently invented a game it’s obvious that he finds hilarious. A game in which he introduces Hannibal to complete strangers using increasingly bizarre pseudonyms. 

The first time it had happened, just over two weeks ago at the opera, Hannibal had merely sighed before politely accepting the handshake of the elderly lady in front of him,

       “ _Duncan Mandrake_. That’s such an unusual name? Is it British?”

       “Scots…”

And at his side he’d seen Will’s lips tremble with the ghost of barely repressed smile,

       “His father was of the Glasgow Mandrakes.”

The following week it was the theatre and a delightful Italian couple, who Will had somehow gotten into conversation with while waiting for their drinks at the bar.

       “Schofield _Munt_? Wow…” the younger of the two men had raised his eyebrows, “Would I be wrong in thinking that was tough for you in school?”

To which Hannibal had nodded at them sombrely,

       “It would not be exaggerating to say they were extremely difficult…formative years.”

       “I can only imagine.”

By the third time it happened, Hannibal had ascertained that the rules of Will’s game were comparatively simple.Firstly - the people in question must not only be complete strangers, but also ones they were unlikely to meet again in similar circumstance. And secondly, on Will’s pronouncement of Hannibal’s chosen name the older man must show absolutely no outward change of expression other than a pleasant, friendly recognition.

       “Dyson Barleyfell? Oh…wow”

       “Sylvian _Merrimarche_? Man, that’s quite…that’s quite a mouthful!”

       “Jürgen...Tolbooth? Okay, is that… _Swedish?_ ”

It wasn’t usually that difficult for Hannibal to keep a straight face, even as Will’s choices became steadily more and more ludicrous, he’d had decades of practice at keeping his emotions hidden after all.What _was_ difficult though was resisting the desire to turn to the younger man shaking with silent laughter at his elbow, and do something to wipe the delicious smirk from his lips.

       “ _Simon Seaman_? Oh man. That’s…”

Hannibal had had to repress a deep inward sigh at that one. At his side, Will had been practically vibrating, his eyes shining with unshed tears of laughter that he knew had to be every bit as hard to hold in as his own distain at the puerile joke. Seized with a sudden desire to see him crack, he had smiled ruefully at the couple in front of him.

       “Yes. My parents were fond of alliteration,” he said, and heard a muffled choking sound as Will had taken a sip of his drink to cover himself, “My sister’s name is Sybill.”

As they’d left after that performance, he’d allowed himself a sideways glance at his partner-in-crime and been amused to see his expression now a mixture of mild annoyance and confusion. He surmised that Will’s game had most likely been invented as a way for him to petulantly relieve boredom when forced into social situations, but now that Hannibal was actively participating it felt as if the rules had been suddenly changed.

       “Oh here he is now! Mr and Mrs. Strebelle, may I introduce…Dr. Egon Spengler?”

Stepping forward towards the two middle-aged Belgians, Hannibal extended his right hand easily with a dazzling smile of greeting, and then - with barely a pause - reached his left to the side to firmly cup the right cheek of Will’s ass. The yelp of surprise the younger man let out was only just covered by the noise of party around them.

       “Charmed, I’m sure. I do hope Sebastian hasn’t been boring you both with work talk?”

It hadn’t taken the Belgians long after that to move on, and when they did there was a pause of more than a minute or two before Will spoke. Turning his head only slightly, Hannibal was gratified to see that his throat and face still held the traces of a deep flush.

       “Very cute,” he drawled softly with a hint of sarcasm, but underneath was a trace of something else. Something that made no sense to him.

Next time, he tried to sidestep the ass grab, one hand reaching out to prevent the move -

       “My good friend, Johännes Galves…”

\- before the second syllable was muted by the older man’s mouth descending on his own. Leaning into the kiss, Hannibal couldn’t resist the impulse to dart the tip of his touch inside, bite softly on his lower lip, before releasing him to move on to their companions with a warm handshake.

       “Johännes Galveston. My apologies. It seems I’ve been an age getting our coats.”

This time, Will left it until they were in the car before speaking.

       “Enjoy that did you?”

His eyes in the darkness were difficult to read, but his tone was strained, tense even. Starting the engine of the Jaguar, Hannibal turned to smile at him easily,

       “Immensely. It was a wonderful performance. It’s rare to see Lorca presented in such an appropriate setting."

       “You know…if you’d wanted me to stop before, you could have just asked.”

There was a tiny flicker of something in his voice again, and glancing at him as they turned out of the parking lot, Hannibal sought but didn’t find quite what it was he’s looking for in his face.

       “Stop what, Will?” he said finally, and turned back to the road.

Since then, it hadn’t happened again.

On returning to his side at a gallery opening the following week, he’s surprised to find Will silent, despite being bracketed by two elderly patrons of the arts who both look at Hannibal expectantly. Taken aback, he pauses for a moment before offering them both his hand and his official alias, while stood between them Will merely sips his wine.

       “That was bordering on rude,” Hannibal says, after they’ve departed. 

He keeps his voice soft and measured, but eyeing him guilelessly the younger man only inclines his head, frowns a little.

       “Sorry. Guess I wasn’t raised to know the proper etiquette in these situations.”

       “Will…”

       “It’s _Sebastian_. Remember?”  
  
He says the name with just the faintest trace of a snarl, and this time Hannibal sees clearly the thing he’d divined before. An anger that makes no sense to him whatsoever.

       “Will? Are you angry with me… _because of the name that I chose for you_?” he asks curiously, and to his great surprise Will’s expression darkens immediately, his jaw clenching.

Turning away, he sets his drink on a nearby table and stalks towards the nearest door, barely suppressed anger clearly showing in every tense line of his body.Draining his own glass, Hannibal waits a moment or two - considering - before following him outside.

It’s a clear cool night, and Will hasn’t gone far. Leaning over the balustrade out on the balcony, he’s staring out into the lights of the city with an expression Hannibal finds completely inexplicable. This time though, it doesn’t take long for him to start talking.

       “You think I don’t know why you chose that name?” 

His tone is low and tense, and he doesn’t turn his head to look at him,

       “You think I don’t know what you want us to be? I know it. I’m just…I’m not there yet OK? I’m not as… _flexible_ as you are.”

       “As…?” 

Hannibal frowns, his thoughts jumping, connecting, until all of a sudden he gets it, and then has to bow his head to his chest to hide the smile the realisation brings to his lips.

       “Will. I promise you. I did _not_ choose the name ‘Sebastian’ for you because of any…homoerotic associations it might have.”

He leans in closer now, trying to get him to meet his eyes, but although it’s dark he can see Will’s cheeks burning, feel his discomfort radiating.

       “In fact, until this moment, I will confess I have never thought of that name as being attached to anything or anyone other than the person I was thinking of when I chose it for you.”

Will shifts his feet, looking down at the ground, and after a moment Hannibal imagines he can see his posture relax a little. Reaching up to his chin, the younger man rubs a hand through his beard, before shooting him a sharp sideways look.

       “And that _person_ …is not a previous lover? Or anyone else I’d be uncomfortable having been named after?”

Hannibal sighs softly, and for a moment he’s the one that feel embarrassed, vulnerable.

       “Sebastian was my father’s name,” he says quietly.

They give the outings a rest for a while, operas and concerts, even the galleries Hannibal is so fond of. Vienna is full of social opportunities all year round, and it isn’t hard to step back for a month or so. After a while Hannibal even finds that he's enjoying their home more than he has. The surrounding countryside is beautiful, and he realises that - up until now - he’s been largely oblivious of it, drifting into the social scene of a big city as easily as a shark drifts into open water, without once thinking how out of his depth Will might feel.

For this reason, he’s surprised when it’s Will who accepts the next invitation that falls on their mat. And his surprise turns to amazement when - on the evening in question - he appears at the door of Hannibal’s room dressed for the first time in the hand-tailored tuxedo he’d bought him many months before.

       “Pretty good fit,” he says with a tiny self-conscious smile, because he knows damned well what he looks like in it, and just what Hannibal’s reaction to seeing him in it will be.

He leaves him at the bar during intermission, trying not to feel irritated by the covetous looks the younger man is attracting, but when he returns Will is no longer alone. Flanked on either side by a curvaceous, long-legged blonde, his lips are parted in a wide easy smile, as both of them lean their bodies into his hips to whisper in an ear. 

Stepping back into the space he’d occupied before, Hannibal carefully schools his face into an expression of pleasant warmth before offering his hand to the young woman on his right. He’s just about to formally introduce himself, when Will cuts in.

       “Oh, there you are. We were wondering where you’d got to. These are the Jensens. This is Gill, and this is her lovely wife Sofie. They’ve just come back from Prague. I told them we were going there next month. Thought maybe they could recommend a good restaurant or two.”

The eyes resting on Hannibal’s are bright and mischievous, and it doesn’t take a genius to realise that Will Graham had known exactly what his reaction would be when he returned to find him bracketed by two beautiful women. What reaction he’d been _deliberately_ trying to provoke.

       “Oh, how rude I am,” he says, and Hannibal can almost hear the laugh perching on the back of his tongue, “I’m completely forgetting my manners.”

And then, impossibly, he’s leaning forward, touching fingertips to the side of Hannibal’s face, his eyes soft and contemplative. His lips part and there’s a moment, _just a moment_ , when it seems very much as if he’s giving serious though to kissing him. 

       “May I introduce my very very dear friend,” he says, very softly, his breath fluttering against Hannibal’s lips.

       “Ladies, this is Captain Nigel Farzakerly-VanBuren. The fourth.”

 

#  **THE END**

**Author's Note:**

>   
> [And just in case you missed the implication, here's an explanation of why Will thinks Hannibal chose the name Sebastian.](https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/art/features/arrows-of-desire-how-did-st-sebastian-become-an-enduring-homo-erotic-icon-779388.html)  
>  
> 
> _Like this fic? Please consider commenting on it and making my day! And if you _ **really**_ wanna show some love, come follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Treacle_A) or on my [Tumblr](http://treacle-a.tumblr.com/), where I also makes Hannigram Manips for my [Insta](https://www.instagram.com/hannigrammanips) of the same name!_


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